


Shade of Me

by amusingautumn02



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Spirits, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26191336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusingautumn02/pseuds/amusingautumn02
Summary: It's always been said that high school graduation is the time to clear the slate and renew your reputation. No one wants to believe this more than Han Jisung. Seemingly "talking to yourself" is not a habit that gains you a good reputation, and instead leaves you friendless, bullied and severely depressed. Jisung blames his demise on the two protective spirits that have constantly tried to have a say on Jisung's livelihood. Jisung, unknown to anybody but Jisung himself, has lived two previous lives - and his reincarnated spirits essentially haunt him, supposedly protecting him from meeting the same tragic fate that they have suffered. They've done nothing but fuck up his life so far, so when he meets Lee Minho he begs them to, for once, let him have control of this life.ORin which newly graduated Jisung slowly falls in love with university freshman Minho, while simultaneously dealing with his protective spiritual guides constantly attempting to dictate his lifestyle.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	Shade of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know no one reads these, but I hope you enjoy the story! I'm not quite sure where this one will go, but I haven't written creatively in a while due to lack of time and energy... so I'm hoping to spark this passion up again as I used to passionately write fanfic years ago in junior school. Please leave kudos, comments, constructive criticism, as well as adding this story to your bookmarks so you can be updated when I update! If enough love is given I'll try and make those updates as quick as possible :)
> 
> Also title is based on the wonderful 3RACHA song that Jisung wrote and recorded - I See.

His new apartment was... cute. That seemed to be the most accurate adjective that Jisung could ascribe to it. Cute wasn't a particularly positive or negative word - just one that seemed to fit the tiny student living quarters. Entering the dorm, he examined the bench that was the kitchen unit. A minifridge. Some overhead cupboards. A microwave. A stove top. Well, it was nothing like his kitchen from home, but it held the essentials. He put down his keys and looked further into the space. Turning the corner of the L-shaped room, he laid eyes upon his double bed that had been hidden from view when initially entering the room. A large window was dressed in olive green curtains, and from the grubby glass, the city skyline of Seoul stretched out for kilometres. If Jisung listened closely, he could distantly hear the hissing sound of the buses working away on the ground level. Yes, it was cute. Small and quaint and bare, but full of promise and most importantly to Jisung - a place he could call his own.

"I just think if he had studied just a little bit harder in the last semester he could have gotten a bigger apartment on an academic scholarship!"

To some extent.

A commotion of voices grew closer, tones angry and exasperated. Attempting to soak in the final moments of peace, he ignores prior advice to wash his new sheets before touching them and tumbles onto the bed with a sigh.

"That's enough, we made it to university didn't we? That's more than we expected- Jisung!" He doesn't react, instead closing his eyes. So this was the bed he was gonna be sleeping in from now on. His parents had suggested he pay the slightly higher fees for a room with a double bed, knowing Jisung's innate habit of sleeping with his whole body - sprawled across a bed. He thought he might manage with a single, but feeling his arms sinking deeper into the soft bed he thanks his parents quietly for their word of advice.

"I thought we agreed that we'd wash the sheets!" The voice is shouting almost in his ear now. Jisung shouts in anger, leaping up from his bed as soon as he feels a cold shiver penetrate his chest. He glares at the two figures that have now appeared in his apartment, almost growling at them in indignation.

"And I thought we agreed you don't-"

He hisses, thumping a pillow down on his new bed.

"-touch me!"

Around the room, two other figures – both exactly identical to Jisung but in various outdated pieces of clothing - are staring at him with looks of guilt strung across their faces. The closest Jisung, the one who had shouted in his ear, looked especially guilty, shuffling back a few steps. To the average person, if it was even possible to see these figures, would notice that they weren't quite normal. They were majorly opaque-looking, but a slight translucency made the figures seem ghostly. There was no flushed tinge of blood and life that ran through Jisung's own cheeks, but a pale, stone like appearance. The figures did not really stand per se, but rather hovered slightly above the ground - although you couldn't pick this up at first glance.

"Please don't touch me..." Jisung falls back slightly onto the bed, squeezing his eyes shut tightly and attempting to recover from the horrible pressure that had built in his chest, even from the slight movement made through his skin. Nothing felt worse than the icy, wrenching feeling from a ghost's touch. He hugs his legs towards his body, eyes still closed as he held back tears. Just as quickly as he had blown up, he begun to break down. He feels the familiar feeling bubbling up into his throat, making it hard to speak. "Could you just... discuss me somewhere else for a bit? Just let me lie down for a minute." Almost in a whisper, his pleas are for once met without contention, and the two silently disappear through the wall into the small ensuite that Jisung has yet to examine.

They seemed solemn and apologetic now, but he knew within minutes they would be back to scolding him as if nothing had ever happened. He had hoped they would stay on the quiet side as they explored the new surroundings, but the changing environment only seemed to give them more to consider - and therefore worry about. Jisung could only hope they would be understanding at some point, but after nineteen years, he was almost certain these guys could never change.

Jisung couldn't remember a time without these two. He strained his memory as far back as he could, back to even when he was a young toddler, but even there he has distant memories of their faces cooing and fawning over him. His parents were at first concerned when little Jisung would happily blabber to close relatives about how he had a mother and four dads, but those two quickly shut him up, telling him softly that he needed to keep a big secret - no one should know that they existed.

_"But why can I only speak about that Dad?" little Jisung pouted. His cheeks were even chubbier at four years old, still storing baby fat. "You are my daddies too?" His eyes were solemn, bubbling with tears due to circumstances he just couldn't understand._

_Each Jisung looked at each other with pity, turning back to the little one and attempting to comfort him, grasping for a story that would live as truth for who knew how long._

_"It's a secret, little Sungie. When you're older, we'll let you know. But you must keep the secret, even from your… other… parents._

_Until Jisung was 13, he believed that he had three dads. He kept the promise to them - told no one. His parents seemed relieved when they didn't have to take him to see a psychiatrist, and were even more thrilled when they realised that Jisung was not a delusional child, but rather a gifted one, learning to speak and write at a rate far more unusual for someone his age. Jisung saw his parents become visibly less stressed when he wouldn't mention his other dads, and maybe this was an incentive for him to keep the secret. Even at four years of age, Jisung was already prioritising pleasing others._

_On Jisung's 13th, there was cake and music and celebration. He didn't have many friends, but his parents did their best to make his birthdays as memorable as possible. After his exciting night, Jisung runs into his bedroom gleefully, beginning to prepare for bedtime. His face begins to fall as he sees the two of them standing there, looking nervously at each other but seriously at Jisung. He wondered what he had done wrong - was he in trouble for celebrating his birthday?_

_Jisung doesn't recall much of that night. He supposed that the disbelief and utter confusion was enough to make him want to block out any memory of it. If he were to explain it to another person, he might compare it to the moment a child finds out the truth about Santa Claus. Or perhaps a kid sneaking out of bed late at night to get a glass of water and overhearing their parents discussing a divorce. Or being sat down and told you're adopted. Sometimes knowledge is too dangerous for a person to handle, especially when their entire existence comes under question._

_"If this was kept from me for so long, if I placed all my hope and trust into this broken reality, then how do I know I can trust anything else?"_

_They say that ignorance is bliss, and Jisung has craved both since that night. All he accepts to acknowledge are the facts: the two reincarnations of himself that are stuck with him for life. No one else can see them, no one else can hear them. And since that night, Jisung has blamed himself for their existence._

Peter is the first to come out from the bathroom, emerging from the wall and slowly approaching Jisung, as if approaching a sleeping tiger. His eyes are wide and glassy, terrified to be the one to set Jisung off again. 

After Jisung found out the truth about them, he supposed he should give them names. They both are technically him of course, but using a number system or something to label them seemed morally wrong - not to mention confusing. Instead he decided to name them two nicknames he gained over the years, differentiating distinctly between them in his mind. Han and Peter.

Han liked to describe himself as the "original Jisung", no matter how much they quarrelled about it. He'd lived Jisung's first life in 19th century Korea, as a middle-upper class man of the Joseon dynasty. His father was a military officer obsessed with upholding his family title, and Han studied consistently to make him proud. With his dedication to preserving his family name, it seemed only fitting that he would be nicknamed with Jisung’s own surname. Peter was Jisung's second and previous life: born at the spark of the Korean Empire, an adult at its downfall. He witnessed his country at one of its most trialing eras, learning from a young age that in these times, it was survival of the fittest. In his life he learnt a true sense of gratitude and a moral compass that saints would be proud to possess. So the English nickname Jisung had adopted when he’d studied in Malaysia was the one he chose. Both grew up in a world with values that did not always coincide, meaning Jisung seemed to always be subject to a constant battle on how he should do pretty much anything.

“Jisung, I’m sorry.” Peter whispers softly, attempting a solemn apology. “I forget that you can feel it,” he admits. Jisung sighs, looking up at the penitent boy. It was basically unspoken, but he couldn’t stay angry at Han and Peter. Not only was he stuck with them for life, he always had to remind himself that they were stuck with him too. He didn’t like to think about the idea that he too might be stuck following new reincarnations of himself for eternity.

“It’s okay Peter, mistakes happen. Just… try to be more careful.” Jisung wanted to say more to defend himself but he was still shaken up by the bout of anxiety that had arisen. He slipped back onto the bed, closing his eyes. He wasn’t a big believer of any religion in particular but he silently made a prayer to any God that might hear his thoughts.

“Please let this year be good for me. Please.” He heard Han and Peter begin to quarrel in the next room about the state of the bathroom and prayed harder.


End file.
